


Deadly Wicked Grace

by Laglpal



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: A lot of them - Freeform, Because of Reasons, F/M, Gonna bring back the rest of the DA:I characters when possible, Not Beta Read, Post-Trespasser DLC, Spoilers, There are also going to be OCs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2018-11-18 03:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11283054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laglpal/pseuds/Laglpal
Summary: The only possessions Lavellan had now was a dress, a mask, and an invitation to a ball thanks to Dorian. If she was skilled enough, that was all she needed. After all, life was like Wicked Grace played to the death; it does not matter what cards you start with, it is what you do with those cards to seek victory.And hopefully, those were all the starting cards she needed to take down Solas.Here's hoping all those games with Varric paid off.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is the start of my very first Dragon Age Inquisition Fanfiction. Hope you enjoy~!

She remembered the day she received the Anchor. She remembered the day she closed the breach. She remembered the day she was made Inquisitor. She remembered the day she destroyed Corypheus.

It all seem so long ago now. Gone were the days she spent her time running around Thedas closing rifts and saving countless lives while expanding the influence of the Inquisition. That was a time when the Inquisition was actually needed to fight demon armies instead of mediating disputes between Orlais and Fereldan.

Those days were sealed to a close when Lavellan slew Corypheus two year ago. And now, the recent disbandment of the Inquisition serve to further cement those days into the pages of history.

The idea of dissolving the group was raised far before the events at the Exalted Council. Her advisors kept whispering into her pointed ears, saying it was time to sheath their swords and go home. Lavellan heard them but did not listen. She did not want to; the idea of throwing everything she created during the last three years just to appease to the Chantry seemed incredulous. Especially since this was the same Chantry who called her a blaspheming heretic.

However, that did not change the fact that the Inquisition was crumbling under political pressures from both Orlais and Fereldan; one nation wanted the Inquisition as a subset of their army, the other wanting it to disband entirely. And Leliana’s, or rather, Divine Victoria’s idea of calling an Exalted Council did not help matters. Lavellan’s initial plan was to march straight into the Winter Palace, tell Divine Victoria that the Inquisition was staying right where it was, and advise her to refocus her energy elsewhere. 

Lavellan was prepared to fight for the Inquistion’s right to remain as an independent entity. She was prepared to argue from dawn to dust as to why they cannot disband.

But what she was not prepared for was betrayal.

Iron Bull’s treachery was unexpected. Even if it did not give her grief, Lavellan didn’t imagine she would have to use her own magic against Bull. It was only now in hindsight that Lavellan learned that it was a terrible idea to have him in the party. It was natural that the sacrifice of the Chargers pushed Iron Bull towards the Ben-Hassrath. Although the Qunari was never over-emotional, Lavellan found it odd that he never mentioned her decision on the Storm Coast.

Solas’s betrayal, however, felt like someone stabbed her heart with a poisoned dagger. The clever bastard was manipulating her all that time, using her and the anchor to fix his mistakes. The worse part was that she fell for it, like a rat seeing a piece of cheese nestled in a trap. Lavellan fell in love with his facade has a lowly, apostate mage with an obsession of the fade. She failed to see who was truly behind that mask: Fen’Harel, the Dread Wolf, and the Lord of Trickers himself.

Lavellan was no longer blind to what was occurring within the ranks of the Inquisition. Perhaps its disbandment was the best course of action after all. If the Inquisition was now so big that it was near impossible to detect spies and traitors within its ranks, then it was clear its time is done. The Inquisition was not going to threaten the peace it created.

She marched back into the halls of the Exalted Council, dropped the writ from Divine Justinia on the marbled floors, and said the one thing that not even Divine Victoria expected from the elven Inquisitor.

“Effective immediately, the Inquisition is disbanded.”

When Lavellan dropped the writ in front of the Exalted Council and left, she knew that the Inquisition was not the only thing that was leaving her hand. She abandoned her resources, her power, her title and her influence in that one moment. Lavellan left the Winter Palace with less than what she started with during the Conclave; at least she had two arms back then.

And now, after six months of using the remainder of her gold to move into Minrathous, Lavellan still did not have much. The only thing she had now was a dress, a mask, and an invitation to a ball thanks to Dorian. If she was skilled enough, that was all she needed. After all, life was like Wicked Grace played to the death; it does not matter what cards you start with, it is what you do with those cards to seek victory.

And hopefully, those were all the cards she needed to take down Solas.


	2. Paper Walls

She was all too aware of the thousand pairs of eyes that bore into her as the doors closed.

Which was fair, considering that they had quite a bit to look at between her pointy ears and her missing arm. Nonetheless, she kept her head high and walked forward. She was not here to appease to these Tevinter nobles, after all. Her goal was to negotiate with Archon Radonis, and strike an accord with him.

 _‘But you must remember,’_ A voice that was eerily similar to Josephine’s echoed within her thoughts. ‘ _There is nothing more important than a first impression. Present yourself with confidence, as one perceived insecurity could be as deadly as a blade while playing the Game.’_

Lavellan never realized how important the Ambassador’s words were until the situation with Empress Celene at Halamshiral. The Game and the competition for influence shocked the Dalish elf; prior to that, she would have never imagined the Orlesian Court to be so duplicitous. And even then, if what Dorian said is true, it is not half as turbulent as trying to navigate through Tevinter.

She navigated around the ballroom, keeping in mind to focus on her surroundings. A wave of anxiety flooded through her as she walked, and she didn’t quite understand why. Perhaps it is because in Halamshiral, she saw more friendly faces in comparison to now. Back then, she had her troops, her advisors, and her friends helping her manipulate the complex system called Orlesian politics. Now she only has Dorian. And the man was no where in sight.

_Lovely. Just lovely._

Lavellan barely managed to suppress a groan of frustration. She was starting to remember why she hated these fancy get-togethers. The sooner she finds both Dorian and the Archon, the better she can ditch these stupid heels and get on with her life. How Vivienne managed to wear these damned things on the battlefield is beyond her. A cool hand startled her out of her thoughts. Instinctively, she reached for the nonexistent weapon at her side. Her hand fumbled awkwardly, and now she has no choice but to turn around. She was now face-to-face with someone familiar. Tan skin, handlebar mustache, goatee, wicked grin…

Lavellan smiled. A friend, not a foe.

“Dorian.” Relief flooded her upon seeing him. She holds the Magister in a firm embrace, pleased to see him alive and well in such a tumultuous place.

“Good! You’re here. You can’t imagine how wonderful it is to see someone who doesn’t want to kill you.” Dorian smiled.

“Sounds like they are a difficult lot to manage.”

“They are. Fortunately for you, the Altus already like you for destroying the Venatori. Still, watch your back. I can guarantee there are people here who’d want to enslave you just because you’re an elf. Or worse.”

“If they want me dead, they’ll have to stand at the back of a very long line.”

“Undoubtably yes. Let’s not forget that Cassandra is probably the first person on that line.”

“She’s upset with me?”

“I’m not surprised. You’ve went into hiding for half a year, after all. You do owe her an explanation.”

The only response Lavellan had was silence. Dorian was right, after all. The former Inquisitor did cut ties with almost everyone in the Inner Circle save for Dorian, and the only reason she remained in contact with him was because of that magical orb he gave her. Thankfully, Lavellan did not need to respond as a servant approached Dorian. She observed as they speak in hushed whispers, with the magister asking questions for clarification and the servant either nodding of shaking his head to accentuate the points. After a few short moments, the servant bowed and goes on his own way.

“I just received the message that Archon Radonis would like to introduce you to the Court before commencing with the negotiations. Follow me this way, if you would.”

Dorian then led Lavellan to the opposite end of the Ballroom. He gave a brief nod of the head to the Master of Ceremonies, and the two approached the edge of the staircase that gave way to the dance floor. Other nobles began to whisper as the attention focused more on the pair. A small ounce of worry started to plague the Inquisitor: what if her presence is harming Dorian’s reputation?

Howeve r, Dorian did not seem to care about the general opinion of the Tevinter nobility.That was the only conclusion Lavellan could reach when the man extended his arm with that playful smirk of his. “Mind if I escort you across the floor, my lady?”

“You, a Magister, escorting me, a Dalish elf? Are you trying to cause an uproar?”

“Oh, don’t put it like that! Dalish or not, as long as you have magical prowess, you are destined for greatness in the Magisterium. The only ones who might have a problem with us dancing together are some of those stuffy nobles who’ve been alive since the First Blight, and I’m deliberately attempting to get under their skin.”

Lavellan could not help but make an undignified snort at the response. Nonetheless, she entertained the man beside her by looping her arm around his.

“I’d love to see the look on Amladaris’s face right now.” Dorian said in a low whisper. “The old man’s probably shitting bricks.”

“What a lovely image.” Lavellan sarcastically remarked. “Thanks to you I’m going to imagine every noble in this room having excretory problems.”

“Keep thinking about that. It makes them less intimidating.”

“And now presenting:” The Master of Ceremonies announced to the ballroom, ending the two’s trivial banter. “Lord Magister Dorian of House Pavus, Member of the Circle of Vyrantium, son of the late Lord Magister Halward Pavus of Asariel.” At those words, Dorian proudly walked down the staircase before them and onto the dance floor, giving the audience a somewhat dramatic bow before the Master of Ceremonies continues speaking. “And accompanying him this evening is Lady Inquisitor Atheva Lavellan, leader of the Inquisition, Vanquisher of the Venatori, and Slayer of Corypheus.”

That was her cue. Lavellan held up her dress so that she can walk down the flight of stairs. Thankfully, Dorian extended a hand as she moves in order to avoid a possible mishap. She whispered a quick thank you to whichever of the Evanuris watches over distressed women in heels before turning to address the magister beside her.

“Shall we?” She offered her arm once more.

Dorian smiled. “We shall.”

The two proceeded to walk across the dance floor and present themselves to the Archon. A Dalish elf and a Tevinter Altus, arms wrapped together and walking side by side. It surely was an odd thing to see, or at least in the eyes to the Tevinter Court. They had questions, and Lavellan was able to hear some of them. 

_“So it’s true? The Inquisitor is an elf?”_

_“I though Magister Pavus preferred the company of men? Are they together?”_

_“What in the Maker happened to her arm?”_

Judging by the way Dorian was gripping her arm, she guess he could hear them too. She suppose his care-free demeanor was a façade after all. Even Dorian was worried about what will happen tonight.

They were at the end of their walk when Dorian tugged lightly on her arm, cuing Lavellan to pause. She noticed him looking up, and followed his line of sight to see a middle-aged man cloaked in beautiful silk robes smiling down at them from a platform. A staff rested in his left hand, and a tome of some kind in his right.

Lavellan didn’t have to guess who he could possibly be. “Magister Pavus! Inquisitor Lavellan! What an honor it is for both of you to grace us with your presence tonight.” Archon Radonis beamed.

“The pleasure is ours, Your Excellency.” Dorian says as he bowed alongside Lavellan.

The Archon quickly focused on Lavellan. “Dorian has told me quite a bit you, my dear. We’ve worked together in the past, but I am glad that we have the opportunity to meet. How do you find Minrathous?”

 _Why not say the exact same thing she said in Halamshiral?_ “I have no words that would suffice. Minrathous has numerous beauties, and I would not be able to do them justice.”

“As modest as ever, my lady.” He smiled, but his eyes darken with an emotion Lavellan is unable to decipher. The Magister remains silent for a few moments before replying. “Perhaps we shall continue this conversation later. In the meantime, do enjoy the pleasures the balls has to offer.”

It takes all her energy to suppress a smile. It’s best not to look too eager. “Of course, Your Excellency.” Radonis smiled once more before turning around on his heels and disappearing from sight.

After stepping off the floor, Dorian untangled his arm from hers, and she looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “I’m afraid this is where we must part ways for now.” He said solemnly. “I have other… diplomatic issues to attend to. I’m afraid I must bid you adieu for now.”

“Oh. I see.”

The disappointment must have been clearly expressed on her face, because Dorian frowned and spoke in a softer tone. “Don’t look so sad. I promise I’ll see you again soon. Don’t worry about me. Focus on what you’re going to say to the Archon."

The man paused for a moment, before calling back over his shoulder.

“Oh, and Atheva?”

“Yes, Dorian?”

“Try not to kill anyone. You have a penchant of burning people to death wherever you go.”

Lavellan smiled. “No promises.”


End file.
